Part 50 (1/2)
”Are they lies?” returned Mr. Pye, who was fitting the piece into the bottle.
”I have told no lies yet,” said Bywater. ”And I have not said for certain you did it. I say I think so.”
”You never found that bottle upon the surplice! I don't believe it!” foamed Gerald.
”I found the little piece of gla.s.s. I put it into my trousers pocket, wet with ink as it was, and here are the stains of ink still,” added Bywater, turning out that receptacle for the benefit of Mr. Pye. ”It was this same pair of trousers I had on that day.”
”Bywater,” said the master, ”why did you not say, at the time, that you found the piece of gla.s.s?”
”Because, sir, the bit, by itself, would have told nothing. I thought I'd wait till the bottle itself turned up. Old Jenkins, the bedesman, found it a few days ago in the college burial-ground, pretty near to the college gates; just in the spot where it most likely would be, sir, if one came out of the college in a fright and dashed it over.”
”Does this belong to you, Yorke?” inquired the master, scrutinizing that gentleman's countenance, as he had previously scrutinized Bywater's.
Gerald Yorke took the phial in his hand and examined it. He knew perfectly well that it was his, but he was asking himself whether the school, apart from Bywater, could contradict him, if he said it was not. He feared they might.
”I had a phial very much like this, sir,” turning it over and over in his hand, apparently for the purpose of a critical inspection. ”I am not sure that this is the same; I don't think it is. I lost mine, sir: somebody stole it out of my pocket, I think.”
”When did you lose it?” demanded Mr. Pye.
”About the time that the surplice got inked, sir; a day or two before it.”
”Who is telling lies now?” cried bold Bywater. ”He had the bottle that very day, sir, at his desk, here, in this schoolroom. The upper boys know he had it, and that he was using it. Channing”--turning round and catching Tom's eye, the first he did catch--”you can bear witness that he was using it that morning.”
”Don't call upon me,” replied Tom, stolidly. ”I decline to interfere with Mr. Yorke; for, or against him.”
”It is his bottle, and he had it that morning; and I say that I think he must have broken it over the surplice,” persisted Bywater, with as much noise as he dared display in the presence of the master. ”Otherwise, how should a piece out of the bottle be lying on the surplice?”
The master came to the conclusion that the facts were tolerably conclusive. He touched Yorke. ”Speak the truth, boy,” he said, with a tone that seemed to imply he rather doubted Gerald's strict adherence to truth at all times and seasons.
Gerald turned crusty. ”I don't know anything about it, sir. Won't I pummel you for this!” he concluded, in an undertone, to Bywater.
”Besides that, sir,” went on Bywater, pus.h.i.+ng Gerald aside with his elbow, as if he were n.o.body: ”Charles Channing, I say, saw something that led him to suspect Gerald Yorke. I am certain he did. I think it likely that he saw him fling the bottle away, after doing the mischief. Yorke knows that I have given him more than one chance to get out of this. If he had only told me in confidence that it was he who did it, whether by accident or mischief, I'd have let it drop.”
”Yorke,” said the master, leaning his face forward and speaking in an undertone, ”do you remember what I promised the boy who did this mischief? Not for the feat itself, but for braving me, when I ordered him to speak out, and he would not.”
Yorke grew angry and desperate. ”Let it be proved against me, sir, if you please, before you punish. I don't think even Bywater, rancorous as he is, can prove me guilty.”
At this moment, who should walk forward but Mr. Bill Simms, much to the astonishment of the head-master, and of the school in general. Since Mr. Simms's confession to the master, touching the trick played on Charles Channing, he had not led the most agreeable of lives. Some of the boys treated him with silent contempt, some worried his life out of him, and all hated him. He could now enjoy a little bit of retaliation on one of them, at any rate.
”Please, sir, the day the surplice was inked, I saw Gerald Yorke come out of the college just before afternoon service, and chuck a broken ink-bottle over into the burial-ground.”
”You saw it!” exclaimed the master, while Gerald turned his livid face, his flas.h.i.+ng eye on the young tell-tale.
”Yes, sir. I was in the cloisters, inside one of the niches, and saw it. Charley Channing was in the cloisters, too, but he didn't see me, and I don't think Mr. Yorke saw either of us.”
”Why did you not tell me this at the time?”
Mr. Bill Simms stood on his heels and stood on his toes, and pulled his lanky straw-coloured hair, and rubbed his face, ere he spoke. ”I was afraid, sir. I knew Mr. Yorke would beat me.”
”Cur!” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Gerald, below his breath. The head-master turned his eyes upon him.
”Yorke, I--”
A commotion at the door, and Mr. Pye stopped. There burst in a lady with a wide extent of crinoline, but that was not the worst of the bustle. Her cheeks were flushed, her hands lifted, her eyes wild; altogether she was in a state of the utmost excitement. Gerald stared with all his might, and the head-master rose to receive her as she sailed down upon him. It was Lady Augusta Yorke.
CHAPTER LVII.
A GHOST AGAIN.
Minds are differently const.i.tuted: as was exemplified in the case under our immediate notice. While one of Mr. Galloway's first thoughts, on the receipt of Roland Yorke's letter, was to rush round to Lady Augusta's with the news, half in anger, half in a reproachful humour, Arthur Channing was deliberating how they could contrive to keep it from her. The one was actuated by an angry, the other by a generous spirit.
Mr. Galloway at length concluded his long-delayed dinner that evening. Then he put on his hat, and, with Roland's letter safe in his pocket, went out again to call on Lady Augusta. It happened, however, that Lady Augusta was not at home.
She had gone to dine at Colonel Joliffe's, a family who lived some distance from Helstonleigh--necessitating an early departure from home, if she would be in time for their six o'clock dinner-hour. It had thus occurred that when the afternoon's post arrived, Lady Augusta was in the bustle and hurry of dressing; and Lady Augusta was one of those who are, and must be, in a bustle, even if they are only going to a friendly dinner-party.
Martha was busily a.s.sisting, and the cook brought up two letters. ”Both for my lady,” she said, giving them to Martha.
”I have no time for letters now,” called out my lady. ”Put them into my drawer, Martha.”
Martha did as she was bid, and Lady Augusta departed. She returned home pretty late, and the letters remained in their receptacle untouched.
Of course, to retire to rest late, necessitated, with Lady Augusta Yorke, rising late the next morning. About eleven o'clock she came down to breakfast. A letter on the breakfast-table brought to her remembrance the letters of the previous night, and she sent Martha for them. Looking at their addresses, she perceived one of them to be from Roland; the other from Lord Carrick: and she laid them by her to be opened presently.
”Mr. Galloway called last night, my lady,” observed Martha.
”Oh, did he?” said Lady Augusta.
”He said he wanted to see your ladys.h.i.+p particularly. But I said you were gone to Colonel Joliffe's.”
Barely had Lady Augusta tasted her coffee, the letters still lying unopened at her side, when William Yorke entered, having just left the cathedral.
”This is a terrible blow, Lady Augusta,” he observed, as he sat down.
”What's a blow?” returned Lady Augusta. ”Will you take some coffee, William?” ”Have you not heard of it?” he replied, declining the coffee with a gesture. ”I thought it probable that you would have received news from Roland.”
”A letter arrived from Roland last night,” she said, touching the letter in question. ”What is the matter? Is there bad news in it? What! have you heard anything?”
Mr. Yorke had not the slightest doubt that the letter before him must contain the same confession which had been conveyed to Arthur and to Mr. Galloway. He thought it better that she should hear it from him, than read it unprepared. He bent towards her, and spoke in a low tone of compa.s.sion.
”I fear that the letter does contain bad news; very bad news, indeed. Ro--”
”Good heavens! what has happened to him?” she interrupted, falling into excitement, just as Roland himself might have done. ”Is he ill? Has he got hurt? Is he killed?”
”Now, pray calm yourself, Lady Augusta. Roland is well in health, and has sailed for Port Natal, under what he considers favourable auspices. He--”
”Then why in the world do you come terrifying me out of my wits with your tales, William Yorke?” she broke forth. ”I declare you are no better than a child!”